Mystery · 28 chapters · by Royendgel Silberie · in english
"Please — I have a family—" Two shots, flat as a stapler. Twenty feet away, a man in a gray suit folds against a concrete pillar, and you freeze between…
Chapter 1: Level Three
"Please — I have a family—" Two shots, flat as a stapler. Twenty feet away, a man in a gray suit folds against a concrete pillar, and you freeze between parked cars, scrubs still warm from a fourteen-hour double. The shooter turns. Young face. Calm eyes. He looks straight at you and memorizes your face the way you memorize vitals. Your badge slips, clatters on concrete. He takes one step toward you.
What happens next? I run for the stairwell and scream for security. · I drop behind a car and memorize his face right back. · I go to the dying man. I'm a nurse.
Chapter 2: The Stairwell
You run. Heels of your sneakers slapping concrete, screaming for security into echo. The stairwell door bangs open before you reach it — two men in dark suits, not hospital, not police. "Miss Reyes." They know your name. Behind you, the shooter is already gone, like smoke. A black car glides up the ramp. "You need to come with us. Mr. Moretti insists." Moretti. The name from every headline your mother ever crossed herself over.
What happens next? I fight them — I'm not getting in that car. · I get in. Whoever Moretti is, he isn't the shooter. · I demand to know what Moretti wants with a nurse.
Chapter 3: Witness
You drop behind a rust-red sedan, heart slamming, and do what triage taught you: observe. Late twenties. Left-handed. A tattoo of a coiled snake above his collar. He crouches by your fallen badge — and photographs it. Your name. Your face. Then footsteps, several, fast, and low voices in Italian. When hands close on your shoulders they're gentle, which is somehow worse. "Miss Reyes. Mr. Moretti says you're not safe here anymore."
What happens next? I tell them exactly what I saw — the snake tattoo, everything. · I say nothing. Information is the only card I hold. · I ask who Moretti is to decide when I'm safe.
Chapter 4: Scene Safety
You go to him. Training louder than fear. You're kneeling in someone's blood before you think the word blood, hands finding the wounds, and the dying man grabs your wrist with shocking strength. "Tell Luca," he rasps. "The books — it's someone inside—" His grip goes slack. The shooter is gone. Footsteps close in behind you and a soft voice says, "Miss Reyes. Come with us. Mr. Moretti insists."
What happens next? I keep his last words to myself for now. · I go willingly — Luca needs to hear this. · I refuse to move until someone calls the police.
Chapter 5: The Beautiful Cage
You wake in sheets that cost more than your rent, in a room with sapphire drapes and a locked door. A girl sits cross-legged at the foot of the bed, black bob, chipped nail polish, watching you like a documentary. "Don't bother with the window. Third generation of nurses to try." She grins. "I'm Bianca. You're the witness." Down the hall, a clock chimes. "Get dressed. My brother's been waiting a year to talk to you."
What happens next? I storm downstairs and demand he let me go. · I play the polite guest and map every exit first. · I ask Bianca what her brother wants with me.
Chapter 6: Uninvited
You don't wait for permission. You march down a hallway of dead men's portraits and shove open the first important-looking door — into a wall of cigar smoke and silver hair. Not the brother. The uncle. Salvatore looks at you the way surgeons look at tumors. "The liability walks," he says softly, rosary clicking through his fingers. "In my day, witnesses were handled, not hosted." Behind you, a voice like dark water: "Zio. Enough."
What happens next? I tell them both I'm nobody's liability. · I turn to the voice behind me — and freeze. · I file the uncle under 'threat' and say nothing.
Chapter 7: Counting Doors
You smile at the housekeeper, compliment the orchids, and count. Two guards at the front door, one at the garden gate, cameras in the corners like patient spiders. The villa is beautiful the way a museum is beautiful: everything valuable, everything alarmed. In a gilded mirror you catch movement — a man at the top of the stairs, dark curls, watching you work it all out. Not stopping you. Almost… proud. "She counts exits," he murmurs. "Bene."
What happens next? I meet his eyes in the mirror and don't look away. · I ask him directly: how long have you been watching me? · I keep counting. Let him think he unsettles me.
Chapter 8: What Bianca Knows
Bianca shrugs like it's obvious. "A year ago someone shot my brother. He never says who stitched him back together in a supply closet and didn't file a report." Your stomach drops through the marble floor. The gunshot patient. Gray eyes, refused a name, gone by dawn. "He kept your badge photo," Bianca adds, gentler. "In his desk. Under the ledger nobody's allowed to touch." A knock. "He's ready for you."
What happens next? I go to him with my head high. He owes me answers. · I pretend I don't remember him. See if he flinches. · I ask Bianca what's in the ledger first.
